ESCAPE FROM NORTON'S GAP.
Whilst Starlight was joking with Kearney, Alec got up from his seat by
the table, and without taking any notice of Yesslett he strolled to the
open window, at which, as was his frequent custom, Crosby was leaning
out whistling softly to himself. Supporting himself carelessly against
the warped frame, from which the paint had bubbled up and chipped away,
and with his brown flushed face turned up to the stars, which now began
to burn in the fast darkening sky, Alec said in a low voice to his
friend--
"Go on whistling, don't look round. That fellow who has just come in is
my cousin, Yesslett Dudley. He has come to try to get us off. They have
had my letter. He says my brother is not dead; I could hardly help
yelling with delight."
Alec spoke in a whisper, and Martin kept on whistling his tune as
though in utter vacancy of mind, but, without looking at Alec, he
nodded his head in time to the music to show that he heard him and
understood.
"When he has had his supper--plucky beggar, how well he does it," Alec
went on in the same low voice--"and goes out with that letter of
Starlight's, you must follow him, and hear what he has to say."
Fearing to attract attention by remaining more than a minute or two at
the window with Alec, Martin stepped back to the table, where Yesslett,
with an appearance of great enjoyment, was pitching into a piece of
cold meat and a great lump of damper.
People say there is such a thing as honour amongst thieves; there may
be, but thieves seem very doubtful of it themselves, for living in a
state of outlawry, and often with a price upon their heads, they grow
exceedingly suspicious of each other, and are in constant fear of
treachery from one member or another of the gang. This was the case
just now. The letter that Starlight had just written, which he had
hired Yesslett to take to Lingan's, was the present object of
suspicion, and several of the men had whispered together about it. At
last Yesslett, having finished his supper; pushed the seat back and
rose from the table, and Starlight handed him the letter, saying--
"There now, be off. Mind you fulfil your part of the contract. I've
given you the shilling and the supper; you therefore must deliver the
letter, and say what I told you."
"Before the boy takes the letter, me and one or two wants to know
what's in it," said Middance, a short, stout man, who was standing by
the door rather sheepishly swinging one leg.
"Know what's in it!" said Starlight, turning towards him as quick as
lightning, and speaking with an angry tone in his voice, which all the
music of it failed to hide. "That's just like you. A miserable,
sneaking lot of pickpockets that cannot trust me to do a single thing
for your benefit and my own without doubting me and poking and prying
into it. Stand out of the way there, Middance, and let the boy
through," said Starlight, in a voice that somehow the man obeyed
without a murmur. Then turning to Yesslett, he added, "and now, boy, be
off, and don't let me catch you stopping to listen to what I say."
Martin Crosby had quietly slipped out of the room before Middance had
placed himself in the doorway, so that when Yesslett, who was quickly
outside the house, had crossed to the path, he found the great fellow
awaiting him in the shadow of a mossed and stunted tree.
Directly that he thought Yesslett was out of hearing, Starlight turned
again to the startled looking men.
"I will tell you what that letter contained, since you must know. Oh,
never mind that fellow Law," said Starlight, impatiently, in answer to
the nods and signals of one of the more cautious of the men, "we have
got him safe enough, for some time at least, and he knows who and what
we are, so it's no good our humbugging him. He knows we're thieves, so
what's the use of our aping honest men. Well, that letter was one I
have manufactured for the purpose of inducing Lingan and that lubberly
son of his to go to Bateman to-morrow. They'll rise to the fly, I know.
And this is the reason I've done it.
"We have made Norton's Gap our headquarters for some time past, and it
is about time we flitted. I don't hold with keeping in one place too
long, as you know, and I've a sort of notion that our whereabouts is
suspected, and that won't do for us. What I mean to do is this.
To-morrow both the Lingans will start early for Bateman, and when they
are out of the way we'll just drop down there in a friendly way, make a
clean sweep of everything in the house--I know there is a pile of
dollars--and then quietly vamose the ranche."
This was such a piece of base ingratitude--for the Lingans had been
invariably faithful and friendly to the bushrangers--that some of the
men murmured a feeble dissent, but none of them had the moral courage
to boldly oppose Starlight's determination. There is a sort of bravado
in vice amongst a band such as this; none of the men likes to own
himself feebler in evil-doing than his fellows. Besides this there was
something so fiendish in Starlight's unblushing iniquity, in his total
want of morals, and in the pride he seemed to take in his own infamy
and degradation that it overpowered the men, whose sense of right and
wrong was dulled, if not destroyed, by the life of crime that they
lived.
"What about Big Eliza?" asked one of the men.
"Oh," said Starlight, with a smile that would not have disgraced an
angel, "she'll squeal a bit, and perhaps call me some hard names, for
the fool thinks that I like her just because she chooses to like me.
_She_ won't do us any harm. I verily believe I could tell her what
I intend doing without her saying a word to her husband, or trying to
stop us."
And so he truly might have done. He knew only too well what his
influence over women was. He was aware of his own beauty, and
recognised its power; he therefore never neglected his appearance, and
was always becomingly dressed. "From no sense of vanity I can assure
you," he once said to Crosby, smoothing down his breeches to the curves
of his thighs as he spoke, "but I know the value of my stock-in-trade
too well to let it deteriorate as long as I can help it."
"Don't be too sure of Big Eliza," squeaked Foster from somewhere in the
background. "She've got a temper of her own."
"Did you never like or respect any one?" said a quiet voice from the
window where Alec still was leaning.
Before Starlight had made the light reply that was on his lips as he
turned his smiling face to the window, the mocking, sneering voice of
Middance, who was striving to emulate his leader in cynicism, said--
"That shows you don't know much o' we wicked uns, or you wouldn't ask
that question. Don't you know that the wust of us," here the blackguard
assumed what he thought was a religious snuffle, "the very wust, al'ys
loves one pussun. Starlight loves his mother."
Swift as the swoop of an eagle Starlight turned on the fellow, and, for
the first time in the memory of the gang, livid with passion, struck
him a crashing blow full on his jeering mouth. Middance fell like a
log, for although Starlight was not tall his muscles and sinews were of
steel. Standing over the prostrate man, Starlight said, in a voice that
literally quivered with rage--
"Dare to mention her name again, and, as I live, I'll strangle you!"
Middance did not move or speak: he was awed by Starlight's unusual
passion, for there was something grand about the anger of this
generally unmoved man.
Starlight soon regained command of himself, and, as though ashamed of
his display of emotion and anger, he moved to the window where Alec
stood astonished at the sudden scene, and in his customary low tone, he
said--
"I have surprised you, I see. You think a man is all good or all bad.
Ah, wait a few years longer, and you will learn to take wider views.
Men are many-sided cattle."
And then, as though to correct any false impression he might have
created as to his possessing more than one side himself, he crossed the
room and said something, in the same melodious voice, to one of the
men, so blasphemous that, accustomed though he was to the not too
choice language of a station, Alec flushed hot, as if the very hearing
of it seared him.
Shortly after supper the men went off to bed. They did not sit smoking
late that night, for a feeling of restraint was upon them after the
unusual scene of that evening. Crosby had come in some time before,
looking, Alec thought, eager and excited; he said in answer to one of
the men that he had seen the boy go towards Lingan's and had then come
in. Alec dare not court the attention of the men by crossing the room
and speaking to Martin, and he had to wait till Starlight had put out
the light and sprung into his hammock, which he had let down from the
hooks in the ceiling to which it was fastened in the daytime.
Besides Starlight and Alec there were two other men sleeping in the
room, which was a good sized one, and it was to the circumstance that
he was thus so well guarded that Alec owed the fact of his not being
secured in any way. These two men were Kearney and Martin Crosby.
Alec lay in a perfect fever of anxiety, his very flesh tingling. For
some little time sounds could be heard about the place, as Foster, who
was general factotum and drudge, moved in the passage or the other
rooms, but at length these subsided and the house grew still. Gradually
silence fell upon the room, and Alec could hear the breathing of the
men grow rhythmical and deep. The night was very dark, for heavy clouds
had rolled up from the sea, which lay beyond the eastern hills. As Alec
lay gazing with wide open eyes at the dull grey square of the unclosed
window he could not see a star. Every now and then warm puffs of air,
heavy with the scent of the white jasmine growing wild and rampant in
the ruined garden, came in from the outer night.
Alec could feel, he hardly knew how, that there was one person still
awake in the room besides himself; he felt sure that it was Crosby,
that he was watching his opportunity, and that he only bided his time
till all the men had sunk to rest. It must have been nearly midnight.
At last, when all the house was hushed in sleep, and when the very
sighing of the trees outside seemed but the breathing of their slumber,
Alec felt, before his quick ears had heard a sound, Crosby's warm
breath upon his cheek. Martin had left his corner of the room, and,
lying on the floor, had drawn himself, like a serpent, to where Alec
lay. Knowing that the slightest sound broke Starlight's sleep, he
placed his lips close to Alec's ear, and in the faintest whisper, he
said--
"Your cousin has horses just beyond Lingan's. Get up and creep through
the window. Don't make a sound. I'll follow."
Without a word, only grasping Crosby's great arm to show that he
understood, Alec slowly rose up, and like a ghost began to steal across
the room. He scarcely dared to breathe, and although his bare feet made
not the least sound upon the floor he paused for a second after taking
every step. As he passed by Starlight's hammock the bushranger turned
in his sleep, and threw back the blanket from his throat. Alec felt the
little draught of air it made. For a moment he stood quite still,
fearing that Starlight might wake, but with a sigh he sank again into
the depths of sleep. Alec reached the window, and leaning over the sill
he glided, rather than climbed, through it without a sound.
The sweat was standing in beads upon his forehead, and the backs of his
wrists were damp from anxiety and excitement as he stood out there in
the scented darkness awaiting the coming of his friend. A moment
passed, and another, still no Crosby. Had anything happened to him?
Time passed so slowly to Alec in his agony of suspense that he thought
something must have befallen his friend. He had made one step towards
the window to see what was causing the delay when he saw Martin--for
his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness of the night--slowly
rising to the window ledge.
For a moment not a sound was heard; then, just as Crosby was half
through the window, the woodwork, unaccustomed to the strain, cracked,
and with a loud noise a great piece of it gave way.
Without wasting a second, Martin rushed to where Alec was standing. He
knew it was useless then to attempt any concealment, for the noise was
enough to have roused the seven sleepers. He seized Alec by the arm and
said, as he turned him towards the valley--
"This way. Come along. Speed is our only chance now."
He was right, for as they stumbled blindly across the broken ground of
the garden, tripping over some obstacle at every other step, and
travelling very slowly for all their haste, they heard Starlight spring
from his hammock and strike a light. Although only just aroused from
his first deep sleep the bushranger had all his wits about him at once,
and he seemed to know instinctively what had happened. Whilst still
quite close to the window, the fugitives heard him shout out in a
clear, loud voice--
"Kearney, Kearney, Crosby, wake up! Look alive! The boy has gone!"
But Starlight was a man of action; he was never one to wait for others
when he could do a thing for himself. Before Alec and Martin, with all
their eagerness, had travelled forty yards, he was leaning out of the
window holding the candle above his head. The flame never flickered in
the still and sultry air. In an instant he had seen them; either the
light had fallen on them from the window or else their white clothes
showed up against the line of dark trees beyond them. Anyway Starlight
saw them, and Alec heard him sing out--
"There he is--why, there are _two_!"
Crosby also had heard it, and judging from the sound of Starlight's
voice he knew he was at the window. He turned for one second and saw
the light gleaming on the bright barrel of the pistol that Starlight
was pointing at them. He just had time to lay his powerful hands on
Alec's shoulder and swing the lad in front of him that he might cover
him with his own great body from Starlight's fire.
Alec did not know what he meant by this, and half looked round, but
Crosby urged him on. That moment Alec heard two reports of a pistol
follow each other in instantaneous succession, and feeling his
shoulders gripped with a convulsive clutch he heard Martin say in a
broken voice--
"_I'm shot!_"
He understood then what his friend had done for him; he knew that to
screen him from Starlight's fire he had interposed his own body, and to
save his life Martin had risked his own. He could not say anything of
this just then; his feeling of his friend's devotion was too deep for
words, and all his thoughts and all his energy were at once centred on
getting Martin safely away. There was no time to waste in talking, for
Alec heard answering shouts from the men in the other part of the
house, and he knew that in a moment they would be in full pursuit. All
that he said was--
"Can you keep up?"
Martin just said, "I'll try," and seizing Alec's right arm, partly to
guide him and partly to support himself, he tore along again. Although
his right arm hung broken and useless by his side, and although he
could feel the hot blood pouring down his body from the wound in his
broad breast, where the bullet had struck him after passing through his
arm, he never faltered. For one brief second when he was struck the
world seemed to swim before him, but clenching his strong teeth
together he regained command of himself and resolved, with the noble
obstinacy of natures such as his, that he would hold out until he had
taken Alec to the place where the horses were, or die attempting it.
[Illustration: "TO SCREEN HIM FROM STARLIGHT'S FIRE HE HAD INTERPOSED
HIS OWN BODY." (_p. 256._)]
As they rushed down towards Lingan's they plainly heard the men leaving
the house and starting after them. There was some confusion at first,
which gave them a little advantage, but Starlight, who remained quite
cool at this crisis, calmly gave instructions to the men, and said that
it was towards Lingan's that Alec and Crosby were running. Directly
after this they heard two or three men start in pursuit, with the
directions to shoot the runaways if they were unable to catch them. The
rest of the gang, with Starlight at the head of them, rushed to the
little paddock to saddle their horses.
Both Law and Crosby were barefooted, as Alec had left the house without
thinking to bring his shoes, and Martin, although he had had his in his
hand, had been unable to put them on. Both of them badly cut and
bruised their feet against the sharp stones of the valley, but neither
of them stopped, or even slackened speed, for that; indeed, in the
great dread of being caught before they could reach the horses, neither
of them so much as felt the pain.
At last they reach the entrance to the valley, and behind them, not far
off, they hear the heavy tramping of the men. Neither of them speaks,
but Alec feels that Martin is leaning more heavily each moment on his
arm. One thing only is in their favour; their bare feet fall noiseless
on the coarse rough grass on to which they now have turned, and their
pursuers cannot tell which way they go. At this moment heavy drops of
rain begin to fall from the lowering clouds above them--great, heavy
drops of water that the heated air has warmed. Now they pass by
Lingan's. The house is dark and wrapped in sleep. A sheep-dog hears the
footsteps of the men, as they tear down the hill, and barks once. How
strange it sounds with all else so still. As they reach the little open
space of ground, on the other side of which the long low line of black
bush stretches, where Yesslett and the horses await them, they hear
behind them the laboured breathing of the men. It is evident that they
are gaining fast upon them. Crosby, growing faint from loss of blood,
goes slower every moment; he feels he cannot maintain this killing
pace. Alec hears his breath grow short. At last, when they have almost
reached the place where Yesslett stands waiting with the horses, he
says--his words are broken and his voice is faint--
"I can't--keep--up. Run on. He's waiting--horses--little way--straight
ahead."
For answer Alec takes Crosby's arm that holds his own, places it round
his shoulders, and putting his strong right arm about Martin's waist,
half lifting him, he helps him forward. As he does so he feels the poor
fellow's shirt is warm and thick with blood. Close behind him now Alec
hears the men in pursuit. Kearney--he knows him by his voice--growls an
oath as he kicks his foot against a stone. Crosby hears nothing, he is
too faint.
Now the men wander away from them, a little to one side, and
now--"Thank Heaven!--here are the horses!"
Yesslett stands between them, holding both. He has stood so long,
gazing with aching eyes into the darkness, that when at last he
suddenly sees the two figures before him, he almost shrieks aloud.
"Oh, Alec--" he begins.
"_Hush_, don't speak. Keep Amber still; he must bear two of us
to-night. Now, Crosby, mount," he says, in an intense, low whisper.
But Martin only shakes his head; he has no strength left.
"For Heaven's sake, try!"
No, he cannot do it. But Alec, though almost in despair, for every
second he expects to feel the hands of the bushrangers upon him, will
not give in. He pushes Crosby to the horse. "Stand still there. Whoa
there, Amber!" and placing one bare heavy foot of the fainting man in
the stirrup, he stoops, and half lifts, half pushes Martin into the
saddle. Then, springing up behind, he holds him up with one rigid
arm--he seems to have the strength of ten to-night--and grasps the
reins with the other.
"Now, Yesslett--_quick!_" he says, and puts his horse in motion.
As he starts a figure wildly crashes through the bushes, and, grasping
Yesslett's bridle, Kearney, in a triumphant voice, yells out--
"Not so fast, my master."
That very moment Starlight, who, with the mounted men of the gang, had
followed them at a break-neck pace from the house, dashes on to the
open ground, and dimly catching sight of something moving at the edge
of the bush, draws his fatal pistol from his belt and fires.
A blinding blaze, a crash, one wild shriek of agony, and Yesslett feels
his bridle free; for Kearney falls by the hand of his own leader.